


A Knowing Change

by rei_c



Series: Knowledge 'Verse [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, First Time Shifting, Loup-garou | Rougarou, Possession, Voodoo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2020-09-02 06:48:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20271685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rei_c/pseuds/rei_c
Summary: Marinette is the loa of werewolves and her devotees can turn intoloups-garouxif they have her favour. Sam has always had her favour.





	A Knowing Change

The air is humid, practically suffocating Sam as he kneels on the edge of the bayou. There's a breeze coming off the water -- not much of one but enough to smack wet air right in Sam's face and clog up his lungs. Sam hears something a little bit away, might be an alligator in the water, might be movement from the snakes coiled up on the cypresses and oaks and tupelos draped with Spanish moss.

He breathes out through his nose, looks up into the canopy of leaves and kudzu, says, "I'm never gonna get this." 

Marie grins at him, rubs her hand in his hair as if she's petting a puppy. Sam barely resists the urge to lean up into the touch, to lean forward and close the space between them, nip at her neck and bite deep into her shoulder. 

Instincts like these, it should be easier. 

"_You're not letting go_," Marinette tells him, curling smooth and easy through his mind. "_You can do it. Trust yourself_." 

"Or," she goes on, speaking through Marie's mouth now, Marie's eyes turned black to signify a full and complete take-over by the loa, "if you want, I could give you a little push."

Sam looks at Marinette, meets her eyes and gives her a wry smile. "Mari," he says. "Trust myself? _Really_? You know me better than that. If you _don't_ give me a push, we'll be out here for weeks."

Marinette laughs. "Aw, _mon cher, mwen piti flamn_. You're a bright spark in a very dark world. You'd get it faster than that." Sam flushes at her praise, can't help it, and she grins, says, "You need to learn your power, Sam. Learn it and use it," and leans forward to kiss him. 

She's rough, dangerous bite in the way she uses her teeth to pull at Sam's lower lip. Sam never liked his sex rough and violent until the first time Marinette pushed him down and took what she wanted from him, leaving his body covered in bite marks, scratches, and bruises. It was -- in a time when he was numb and scared and all alone, she made him feel, made him remember he's alive enough to bleed, brought him back to himself, claimed him when no one else wanted him. She hasn't left him since that night, either, riding him or one of the other vodouisantes, always willing -- always more than willing -- to remind him when he needs it that he's wanted, that he's loved, that he's _living_.

Most people would say that Marinette's terrifying, a loa to be wary of and fear and avoid, but Sam loves her. Sometimes he even thinks she loves him back. 

"_Of course I love you_," Marinette says, hooking her nails into Sam's mind and holding tight. "_You're mine. My horse, my darling, my Sam. _Mine_. Now focus, _mon cher_. Feel this._" 

Her nails slide, cleaving Sam's mind into pieces. It hurts but, somewhere beneath the pain, he can feel something, some sort of primal instinct that wants to dig paws into the damp ground and howl up at the sky, to bare teeth at the 'gators in the water and eat the ground up in loping strides. 

"There you are," Marie says. "I can feel it. Whatever Marinette did, it's working, Sam." 

"_Teeth and nails and fur,_" Marinette murmurs. "_Let go._" 

Sam closes his eyes. Even as Marinette's peeling apart his mind like she's flaying it, Sam can feel something burst out of that space, free now and revelling in it. He opens his mouth and feels his face change, bones shifting and stretching, teeth growing into fangs. He'd scream at the pain but his hands and feet start changing and the rest of his body follows a moment later. 

Marinette's with him the entire time it takes his body to reconfigure, pulling layers of his mind off when he needs the help, pushing through his bones and pinning his muscles and tendons in place. She never distracts him or tries to take the agony of this transformation away; she makes Sam experience it all himself and tells him, "_It'll be easier next time if you know. Focus on it, Sam. You can handle this. Take it in._" 

He doesn't know how he's not dying but then something clicks and the change is over. He sits on his haunches and pants, tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth as he waits for the ache to fade. 

"Ah, _mon cher_," Marinette croons, reaching out through Marie to run her hand along Sam's muzzle, scratch under his chin. She leans forward, rubs her face in Sam's fur. "So beautiful. I knew you'd be magnificent, Sam." She stops at that, leans back and gives Sam a crooked smile. "Not so little, after all. Go look at yourself, _mwen flamn_." 

Sam doesn't understand; the words take longer to comprehend, but then he gets it: they don't need a mirror when they're here by the water. 

He stands, tests out his balance on four legs cautiously but movement is instinctual. Ignoring his tail -- only barely -- Sam trots to the edge of the bayou and peers over into the water. His jaw drops and his ears go back, lie flat against his head as he stiffens, then slowly relaxes as he realises he's looking at _himself_. 

He looks like a timber wolf but he's too big; even with the odd angle his shoulders have to be four or five feet above the ground. Long muzzle, long slender legs that speak of restrained power, and his senses are crazy, smelling and seeing things that his human self wouldn't. He still has human vision, though. He can still see colours: the mud brown of the dirt, the greenish-blue of the water, the black of his fur -- and his eyes, his eyes are red, red the shade of blood on fire.

"Pure black," Marinette says, as she comes to stand next to him. Sam lifts his head and licks at her jaw; he doesn't have to reach far. "A very rare colour for one of mine."

Sam tries to talk to her, the piece of her that's always inside of him, ask her why and what it means, but the words come out more as impressions, a query, a deeper and more honest form of communication that doesn't use words but rather simply exists, him and her, _together_. For the first time, Sam realises what it is the _loups-garoux_ have been telling him. This is so far beyond communication that it's symbiosis and Sam never wants to leave. 

"Never want to leave you either," Marinette tells him, one hand resting on the top of his skull. "You're mine, Sam Winchester." Sam thinks at her, sends her something that he hopes she understands, and Marinette, chuckles, a low and dark sound that never fails to send shivers down Sam's spine and send his heart racing. "You're right, _mon cher_. I'm yours. You can have me forever." 

Marinette slides out of Marie and Marie takes her hand off of Sam's head, grins down at him and says, "Let me change and then we can run." 

She starts immediately, not waiting for a reply, and Sam's ears catch the sound of popping and creaking and groaning lasting for long moments before a wolf stands in Marie's place. She shakes, loose strands of mottled red fur flying into the air, then lowers herself a little and licks Sam's jaw, a shy whine coming from her muzzle. Sam doesn't respond right away so she lowers herself further, ears twitching, and licks him again. 

This time Sam licks her back and the two of them tussle for a few minutes, Sam getting used to the way this body feels, before he pins her, Marie on her back and Sam with his mouth at her neck. She yips and Sam nuzzles her belly before stepping back and letting her get up. 

The idea of wide open spaces and dark leaf-covered woods comes to mind, the feeling of wind against his fur, the sensation of movement and stalking and hunting, along with a question. Marie tilts her head and Sam doesn't know how this works, how they can communicate like this, but he likes it, is close to falling in love with it. 

He noses at her and sends back his agreement. 

And then they run.


End file.
